Astraphobia
by Scarlett Oakenshield
Summary: Astraphobia: Fear of thunder and lightning. Thunderstorm. Fluff. Italy is afraid of the storm, Germany comforts him.


**A/N: I got this idea when I watched the Host Club awhile ago and woke up to rain this morning. Also, I have a friend who we dubbed Italy who also is afraid of thunder. So yeah...this happened. Enjoy. :)**

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The weather was simply ghastly this evening. The sky was so dark it was almost impossible to see beyond your headlights. The roads were so slippery with a sheet of rainwater that all the cars were practically hydroplanning...skating across them. Rain came down in huge gulps, slapping the sleek metal of each car and blinding the wind-shields. The radios were staticy because of the sketchy amount of power the storm was causing. Occasionally, a flash of lightning would split the sky, and thunder would rumble, seeming to shake the whole earth. There hadn't been a storm like this for an age.

Germany listened to the crackily radio as he drove home, and the news broadcasted that there was a power outage.

"Vell that's just great." The blond muttered. "Just vhat I need. As if my day vasn't alveady bad enough." Being a head engineer wasn't an easy task, especially when your lazy ass older brother, who is supposed to be your manager, does absolutely nothing, because he claims he's "too awesome", and then leaves to more than likely have a menage a trois with Austria and Hungary, or screw around with France and Spain, and you're practically drowning in all of your paperwork.

Germany huffed. Prussia was a pain in his butt.

He pulled up to his large house, and parked, instantly hearing his three dogs barking and freaking out because, of course, not a single light worked, as all the power had gone out.

"Mein Gott, shut up!" Germany growled. He put on his jacket and scarf, grabbed his umbrella and got out of the car, splashing right into a large puddle and splattering his clothes with dirty, freezing water.

"Scheisse!" he cursed. He walked to the front door and unlocked it. He opened it and stepped in, greeted by the three dogs: Blackie, Berlitz and Aster, and they nearly knocked him down. He greeted the

the shepherd, the great dane, and the retriever by patting each of their heads.

Satisfied, the three large animals bumbled off, tripping over each other, and Ludwig shed all of his outerwear.

"Italy, I'm home!" he called. No answer. Odd. Italy always answered him.

"Hmm." He said to himself. He started across the entryway. "Italy?" no answer. He peered into the living room. "Italy?" Not there.

He looked in the kitchen. Not there. He started up the stairs and looked into Feli's bedroom that he never used but yet still was a disaster...no sign of the auburn-haired, pasta-loving Italian.

"Vhere could he be?" He was going to check in Prussia's room, but judging by the three distinct snores, he chose not to. instead he muttered: "Here!? You couldn't have gone to Austria's instead?"

It was then that he heard a faint sound coming from his bedroom. A soft, pathetic, heartbreaking sound that he never wanted to hear. Italy...crying.

Germany opened the door. "Italy, are you o-" he stopped. The Italian was sitting in the middle of the German's bed, wrapped in his blankets, and trembling, curled up in a ball. He was crying softly, his arms tightly around Pookie, clutching the little brown cat into his chest.

"Germany, help me..." He squeaked, "Make it stop I don't like it!"

"Make vhat stop, Italy vhat's the matter?"

Italy didn't respond, and continued to shake.

"Italy?" Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked outside, momentarily lighting up the entire room.

"EEEE!" Italy jumped, and Pookie leapt from his arms, meowed and hid under the bed. The Italian shook. There were large tears in his eyes and he was trembling and crying.

"You're afraid of thunderstorms aren't you?" Germany said.

Italy nodded. "And its really, really dark, and scary, I don't like that eith-

CRACK!

"EEEK! GERMANY!" Italy leapt off the bed and into Germany's chest, shaking as he buried his face into it. Germany froze, but soon put one arm, and then the other, around the little Italian, holding his shivering body close, gently patting his back.

"Zhere, zhere...zhe storm is harmless, it von't hurt you."

The lightning struck again. Italy continued to tremble and cry. Germany rested his chin on top Italy's head.

Another crack. Italy clutched Germany's shirt and continued to tremble and cry.

"Germany, make it stop Germany." Italy's teary voice said. "

"I can't do that, but I'll hold you until the storm is over, alvight?"

Italy sniffled, lifted his tear-stained face, and with his wet brown eyes, he looked up and slowly nodded, forcing a smile.

The lightning struck again and Italy instantly buried his head back into Germany's chest, melting closer into him, soothed by the tall, muscular nation's heartbeat and warmth.

With every crack and rumble Italy would tremble, and Germany would rub his back, and say softly. "Es ist okay, es ist okay." And he did that until the thunder and lightning calmed and the rain just pattered against the windowpane.

Even then, once the thunder and lightning had seemed long gone, and both men were in their boxers and tank tops, Italy said,

"Germany, can I sleep with you? In case the thunder and lightning comes back again?"

"Ja." And that's exactly what they did. Italy curled his body into Germany's side, and the muscular man wrapped a strong arm around his back, and that was the best either of them had slept in days.


End file.
